


Can I see you before you go?

by The_improbable_one



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: During Canon, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by Call the Midwife, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:09:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26898721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_improbable_one/pseuds/The_improbable_one
Summary: Set mostly during Season 5 with flashback to season 4 and pre-canonPatience Mount had experienced so much loss in her life already, you'd think that she would be accustomed to it, but she wasn't. Delia's words still hit her like punches to the chest.- Patsy tries to reconcile with the notion that Delia may leave London for good, and reminisces about their early relationship.
Relationships: Delia Busby & Patsy Mount, Delia Busby/Patsy Mount
Comments: 34
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfiction in a LOT of years (probably a decade, now I feel old)!  
> Sorry if I'm rusty. Enjoy x

Patience Mount had experienced so much loss in her life already, you'd think that she would be accustomed to it, but she wasn't. Delia's words still hit her like punches to the chest. 

"I owe her so much, and she's fighting so hard..." 

Delia wasn't coming back to London; Delia was _choosing_ not to come back to London. 

Patsy wanted to be angry, anger was her default way of processing unwelcome emotions, but her heart was too broken. The last shred of hope that she had been clinging to evaporated with Delia's words. It felt like the whole world was unravelling around her. 

Didn't Delia understand? Didn't she know? Patsy would've given anything to have been the one to nurse the love of her life back to health. If they'd been husband and wife, no one would've ever tried to take Delia away from her, but instead Patsy couldn't even get an answer as to her wellbeing from the hospital. She'd never felt more like a ghost than she had in that moment, desperate for news but receiving nothing. 

They had lost each other, and to begin with, Delia hadn't even been aware of what she'd lost. 

Against all odds, eventually Delia found her way back. Though it seemed their second chance was to be fleeting, because now Delia was telling her that she couldn't leave her mother, couldn't choose Patsy. All her dreams of them somehow finding a way to be together were snatched away again. Like a carrot dangled from a string. 

"Well can I see you before you go?" She tried not to let the desperation creep into her voice, tried not to let the tears spill from her eyes. 

The last months had been so hard. Stoic Patsy had pressed on with her usual, terribly proper 'stiff upper lip' routine, but her chest had been hollow, like her heart was elsewhere. She hadn't felt it back in its proper place, beating in her ribcage, until the moment she saw Delia through the steamy window of the bus at Christmas time. Even then she was half sure she was dreaming.   
  
Patsy couldn't do this again. 

Getting Delia to agree to see her was harder than it should've been, Patsy thought. She knew all too well how hard it would be to part, but surely Delia couldn't prefer to just leave without so much as goodbye? Not again, no matter how hard it was. Delia may not have remembered who she was the last time that happened, but the pain of it was still very real, and very raw for Patsy. No, they needed to at least say goodbye. 

The best that they could do was Lunch with everyone at Nonnatus House. It was less than ideal if it was to be their final meeting, even less so with Delia's mother coming too. But if it was all they could get; Patsy would grab it with both hands. For all Delia's reassurances, Patsy wasn't quite convinced that Mrs Busby didn't see straight through them. And as much as she hated Mrs Busby in this moment, Patsy understood her desire to keep Delia close to home. Anyone that loved Delia would fight tooth and nail to keep her. Their own fight began in earnest when Mrs Busby hadn't sent Delia's letters to London, the older lady hadn't known the depths of the anguish she was causing, but Patsy couldn't forgive her nevertheless. The redhead had known - probably since the moment Mrs Busby took her daughter away - that she would try to phase Patsy out and with her, phase out any connection that Delia had to London. It was hardly surprising that she wouldn't want Patsy to know just how much Delia had recovered in her own words, for fear of losing her daughter again. After all, what claim did Patsy really have over the beautiful Welsh nurse? In Mrs Busby's eyes: None. 

The next few days passed in a blur, as days for midwives in Poplar often did. Patsy was equal parts wishing for and dreading the arrival of Monday lunchtime. She always longed for every minute she could get with Delia, and the prospect of seeing her filled her with delight, but it also filled her with sorrow, as the knowledge that this could very possibly be their last encounter weighed heavily on her mind. Altogether too soon and not soon enough, Monday arrived and lunch was ambling along with all the usual pleasantries when it happened. 

Patsy could scarcely believe it. 

She could've kissed Sister Julienne for offering Delia lodgings at Nonnatus house, and Nurse Crane too for so thoroughly endorsing the notion! Mrs Busby was clearly uncomfortable, but she couldn't refuse in such a public setting without seeming rude - it was a stroke of genius! Never could Patsy have thought of a more perfect solution, and secretly she thought that it helped Delia's cause coming from someone other than herself. There was already too much anonymity between the two women that loved Delia most of all.

Was her grin too large? Would it give them away? Patsy couldn't contain it regardless. All the worry, tension and stress that had been piling on her shoulders since the accident suddenly felt lighter, suddenly it was less of a burden to bear.   
  
They would be together, under the same roof. At last. 

Later, Patsy lay in bed staring at the ceiling, wide awake. Trixie slept soundly in the next bed, likely exhausted from the unexpected delivery of twins she'd attended earlier in the afternoon. Patsy couldn't have been further from sleep herself; for she was filled to bursting with a new-found energy with no way to release it. Instead, she let memories of her love wash over her like waves on the beach. 

** 

_I couldn't help but stare at her. The petite, brunette, trainee nurse with the softest voice that I'd ever heard. So unlike my own clipped accent, her voice flowed like a gentle breeze in the summertime. I felt drawn to her like a moth to a flame, it was as though an invisible thread connected us, tugging at my navel, leading always to Delia Busby._

_I knew as soon as I saw her that simply had to know her completely. Our paths often crossed in both a professional and social setting ,"all girls together!" and all that, so we were friendly already, but how could I possibly get her alone?_

_"Patience Mount! Control yourself old girl. One pretty nurse and you've lost your senses. No matter if you can get her alone - she won't be like you" I mentally chastised myself._

_No dark secrets, Girls. The other nurses had laughed off the statement made by the Matron on the day of their enrolment, believing it to be about alcohol consumption or stepping out with inappropriate young men. To most of the girls the warning was meaningless, its true nature was completely inconceivable to them. The very notion that it could pertain to female queerness was completely alien. Girls could not be that way, Queen Victoria herself didn't believe it was possible._

_But I knew, and I suspect others like me did too- if others existed at all. The words felt like a noose around my neck, threatening to strangle me with one single wrong move._ _As if my secret wasn't closely guarded enough._ _I wondered if Delia had also taken heed of the warning?_

_No, there was no possible way that Delia and I shared the same 'inclination'. No matter how much I longed for her to._

_I tried so hard (in vain) to push improper thoughts of her from my mind. That was, until there was a soft knocking at my bedroom door in the nurse's home one evening.  
  
"I missed you in the dining hall tonight, I just wanted to check you were all right?" Delia smiled, was that genuine concern in her eyes?_

_"Oh hello Deels! Yes, utterly splendid, just have a very thrilling date with these rather alluring text books."_ _I half smiled. Trying to play it cool whilst my pulse quickened, she'd come looking for me, she'd **missed** me at dinner._

 _She laughed, she had the most marvellous laugh. She also looked sheepish, hovering in the doorway, was she possibly waiting for an invitation inside?_

_"Though I don't think I can take another minute of it this evening, will you join me instead?" I took the plunge, ever hopeful._

_Was I simply imagining the way that her face lit up? Was I imagining the small blush creeping up her cheeks as she nodded her head and smiled a little too enthusiastically? If I was, tonight I didn't care. Tonight I finally had Delia Busby to myself._

_I don't remember ever smiling so much as we made easy conversation, completely comfortable in each other's presence in a way I had never experienced before._

_After that evening, we were inseparable, always making excuses to study or relax together. My heart repeatedly soared, and then crashed to the Earth again. Being around Delia made me happier than I'd ever felt, but knowing I could never have her in the way I so longed for; that was a truth that was difficult to bear._ _So difficult in fact, that I began to see hidden meanings in otherwise innocent encounters. I was projecting, I knew this. There was no other logical explanation for the prolonged looks, shy smiles and the way I just occasionally seemed to catch her staring at me, achingly._

_This particular evening, I'd barely knocked on her bedroom door when she'd grabbed my wrist and dragged me inside. She must've been poised waiting for me. She looked positively distressed._

_"Pats, I have something to say to you and I'm utterly terrified that it will spoil everything, but I simply cannot go on like this!" My own accent might've been glass-cut, but it was Delia's words that sliced through me this time._

_My heart thumped with dread. She knew. She knew and I disgusted her. What else could she possibly want to discuss?_

_Our bodies were still close from when she pulled me into her room, much closer than was safe. I could smell the perfume on her neck and was practically dizzy with it._

_"I'm sorry, Delia." The words fell out of my mouth no louder than a whisper, I didn't trust myself not to break down._

_"It's me who should be sorry, Pats." She looked so anguished it physically pained me, my body was acutely aware that she made no attempt to step back and broaden the space between us, even though I was practically pinned to the door._

_"I have all these feelings Pats, feelings I know that I shouldn't have. But I can't help it! I've always been this way, ever since I was a little girl. I thought that I could bury them, push them so deep inside that no-one would ever find them." She paused, agitated, and looked up at me pointedly "And then I met you."_

_Could she really be saying what I think/hope/dream she was saying?_

_Those blue eyes were locked on mine, and the way she was looking at me... it wasn't just my own wishful adoration for her mirrored. There was no mistaking the emotion in those eyes, they were almost pleading._

_"I'm the same, Deels."_

_"Really?" Tears swam in the oceans of her eyes now._

_"Yes."  
  
And then the impossible happened, the small gap between our bodies disappeared as Delia's delicate hand reached up to stroke my cheek, my own head bowed slightly and our lips met tentatively for the very first time.   
  
It was everything I ever dreamed and so much more. _

_**_

Patsy smiled to herself at the memory, and realised that it was the first time since the accident that a memory of Delia hadn't filled her with a sense of loss and mourning. Tonight, she realised, there was only joy. Joy of what they had together, and what was yet to come. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patsy waits less-than-patiently for Delia's return, leaving her too much time to worry that things will go wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you eagle eyed readers probably noticed that I posted this chapter a few days ago and promptly deleted it. It just didn't sit right with me, but I've completely re-written it and whilst I'm still not 100% happy (who ever is?) I promise I won't delete this chapter in a few hours time  
> I hope you enjoy reading it :) x

_In the days that followed our first kiss, we continued completely as normal, as though absolutely nothing had happened and the world hadn't changed forever._

_Our lips had touched for just a moment - that was all, but it had been the most exquisite moment of my life. I wasn't ready to let that go. It was like even acknowledging it would taint the memory and we were scared to spoil it. Talking about it would mean confronting all of the questions that swam around in my stomach like cold, slippery eels._

 _We were in the coffee bar that night, where the noise from the jukebox and the cloud of cigarette smoke offered us some anonymity. The cigarette between my fingers contributed to the smog and gave my nervous hands something to do._

 _"Please don't say you regret it Pats, I don't think I could stand it." She looked so small, so scared, so beautiful._

 _"I could never, not for a second. But I hardly know where to start." I took a long drag of my cigarette._

 _"Well you could start by telling me how beautiful you think I look tonight." Delia smiled coyly; I was ever in awe of her confidence. I possessed no such tact._

 _I blushed. Delia's smile was infectious, but the eels still swam in my abdomen._

 _"We'll always be looking over our shoulders, always petrified of discovery..." In hushed tones I finally gave voice to the anxieties that had been plaguing my thoughts._

 _Delia reached across the table and placed her hand over mine, just for a second before hastily removing it, looking around to make sure no one had seen._

 _"So we'll be careful. With you, it's like I've spent my whole life behind a thick pane of glass, the world around me muffled and out of focus, then you came along and smashed it. Now it's like I can see clearly for the first time. I know you can feel it too, and I can't ignore it and go back to how we were. Whatever this is, whatever we are, we're worth it. Aren't we?"_

 _I thought about the ancient Chinese proverb I'd heard growing up in Singapore. The Red Thread of Fate. Legend has it that an invisible piece of red thread connects those that are destined to meet and fall in love. Soulmates. Could we really have that? Did girls like us ever get that luxury?_

 _"Yes. Yes, we are." I conceded, and the eels were temporarily placated. We would give in to happiness, even if it came with great risk._

 _"Good. Now stop being a bloody fool and let's get a slice of cake."_

***

The weeks between Easter and June seamed to pass at a snail's pace in Poplar. Though Patsy had always liked to keep herself busy, her usual distractions of midwifery, cubs and even cleaning were doing nothing to speed the passage of time. She found that in the few moments that she was alone, she wished Delia was there more than ever. The knowledge that her girlfriend was returning in a matter of days didn't diminish Patsy's longing but if anything, intensified it. She felt that she had exercised enough of her namesake virtue to last a lifetime where waiting to see Delia was concerned.

Not to mention the gnawing fear that Delia wouldn't return at all... Patsy knew it was silly, but she couldn't shake the feeling. Until Delia was physically here, she wouldn't fully let herself believe it was happening. There had been too much time for Delia to change her mind, or rather for Mrs Busby to change it for her. Would Patsy really be enough of a reason to bring Delia back to London, when her whole family wanted her to stay away? 

She knew that her anxieties were making her a nightmare to be around, she'd been even more aloof than usual lately, and frankly she wasn't sure how much longer Trixie and Barbara would put up with it. Only earlier that day Patsy had snapped and almost bitten Trixie's head off at her suggestion of them all finding boyfriends. She initially couldn't put her finger on why it irked her so much, after all it was quite a normal thing to say. Patsy was used to it. Everyone expected women their age to have husbands, or at least be in active pursuit of them. It was only later that Patsy realised that she wasn't irritated by the flippant remark as much as she was _disappointed_ by it. 

Occasionally, Patsy would get the distinct impression that Trixie understood her, and though the notion terrified her, she wanted to believe that on some level Trixie knew and approved. Which made moments where it was clear that she didn't all the more difficult. Trixie had said something about a gentleman that she'd met who'd be _simply perfect_ for Patsy and Patsy couldn't help but be annoyed. The illusion of acceptance shattered.

That was the worst part about the sort of love that Patsy and Delia shared; the total isolation it brought them. Their friends, their families, their livelihoods. They'd lose it all if they were discovered, but it was still worth it. Most of the time, their secret love was enough for them. It didn't matter that no one would ever know that Patsy would give her life for Delia, or that she loved her more than anything else in the world. It didn't matter that Patsy could never be proudly introduced to the Busby's as Delia's girlfriend or that they couldn't even hold hands in the street. They had each other, they knew, and that was enough. 

But sometimes, and especially in the time since Delia's accident, Patsy wanted to convince herself that they also had an ally. Surely, they deserved that? They deserved to have someone outside of their relationship that knew its true nature and didn't recoil in horror, but instead acknowledged their love and celebrated it with them. Didn't they? They weren't monsters after all. 

She often wished that Trixie would open her eyes and see for herself what Patsy could never outright tell her. So many times, Patsy had tried to test the water, only to retreat before she took the plunge. True, Trixie was a thoroughly modern woman in many respects, and she'd been clear in the past of her acceptance of homosexuality in men, but she might well think differently about women. Gay men could never be a threat to Trixie, but the woman who sleeps in the bed next to her, who she gets dressed in front of, who's her friend... well, that's a different story all together. As much as Patsy thought she knew Trixie well enough to know it wouldn't bother her in that way, she could never be sure enough to chance it. The doubt was what held Patsy back, if Trixie couldn't figure it out for herself then it was better to be safe, especially since the risk wasn't just hers to take. One wrong move or error in judgement could bring the world that Patsy and Delia had so carefully constructed crashing down around them. 

It was for the best that Trixie didn't know, Patsy concluded as she cycled back to Nonnatus house at the end of the day, of course it was. If Trixie made the odd comment about boyfriends and the like then that was good, in fact it helped them. It meant that Patsy and Delia were safe. As long as neither of them ever actually had to go on a date with any of these men, there was no harm in Trixie's words - as frustrating as they may be. 

"What's this?" Trixie exclaimed excitedly as Patsy put the box in front of her on the kitchen table.

"A peace offering, I was out of sorts this afternoon." Patsy smiled, revealing the half dozen chocolate eclairs she'd collected on her way home. Barbara was practically drooling while Phyllis tried to feign indifference, though her eyes gave her away.

It really wasn't her friends' fault that they didn't understand, and even if they didn't know everything about her, they were still the best friends that Patsy had ever had. 

"Consider yourself forgiven. You can be a misery guts more often if it results in eclairs!" Trixie had already shoved half of hers into her mouth. How a girl with such a sweet tooth stayed so slim was beyond Patsy, maybe there really was something to all those keep fit classes. 

As the midwives of Nonnatus chatted over cake and tea, Patsy realised that this was the closest she'd come to having a proper home since the war, and these people were the closest thing to family since she'd lost her own. In a matter of days, Delia would be joining her here, it wasn't the flat that they had dreamed of, but it would be home. They'd be together. All the cream cakes in London couldn't have made Patsy happier than that thought. 

*

The next day was a gruelling day on the district roster. Patsy's first call was to change the ulcer dressings of a vile man that, despite being almost 80 and having no teeth, pinched her bottom as she was retrieving bandages from her bag. It was all she could do not to slap him, but she gave him a dressing down with words instead as she cleaned and dressed his sores. Her time on the Male Surgical ward at The London had prepared her for beasts such as these, besides she had a job to do first and foremost. 

It only got worse from there. By lunch time, she had had enough, but she pressed on. By the evening, she wanted nothing more than a bath to wash away the grubbiness of Poplar. Cleaning helped Patsy to distract herself. Whether it was her own body, her nursing instruments or the kitchen sink, cleaning was what Patsy did; her coping mechanism. It never quite worked, but it kept her busy and gave her something to focus on. She never could stand to be idle. She could scrub her skin until it was pink, a window until it shined, or a floor until it gleamed, but she never quite mastered the art of washing away the troubles weighing on her mind. The only mess in the world that Nurse Mount couldn’t make right with a lather of soap or a spot of bleach, was the one residing in her own head. 

***

_I didn't notice Delia standing in the doorway, watching me as I scrubbed my bedroom floor on my hands and knees._

_"Pats, didn't you do this yesterday? You could eat your dinner down there it's so clean!" Delia's voice was playful, masking her genuine concern for my well-being._

_I had cleaned the floor yesterday, the window too, and polished the furniture. But that was of no consequence, things were always getting dirty and there was always more cleaning to be done._

_"Come on. Up you get. I'm taking you out for chips." She held out her hand and I took it, rising to meet her. We both noticed it then. The state of my hands._

_"Patsy, you're bleeding. You need to give it a rest with the bleach." She didn't pull away as I expected, instead she kept her own dainty and soft hand in my cracked and weeping one._

_The tenderness caught me off guard and the tears I'd been unknowingly holding in spilled over._

_"What's going on Pats?"_

_The way she looked at me like she really, truly cared. No one had looked at me like that in a very long time. Not in this decade or even on this continent._

_I'd never been forthcoming with my emotions, suffering in silence was how I'd learned to survive, but I couldn't hide it from Delia. Something about her made me want to bare my entire soul to her._

_The dam burst, and through the flood of tears I told her everything. Things I never expected to tell anyone._ _I told her about the war; the camp, the typhoid, my mother and sister, the filth, the hopelessness, the suffering, the hunger, the pain, the desperation, the death._

_"The stench Deels, it never leaves you. No matter what I do, I can always smell it."_

_She didn't say anything, she didn't have to. She knew what I needed more than I did._

_"It's her birthday today, my Mother's I mean." I whispered. The ghosts of her memory had been following me for days. If I kept myself busy enough, made myself tired enough, I could sleep without the nightmares._

_"Oh sweetheart" She pulled me into an embrace, kissed my wet cheeks and stroked my hair until the sobs subsided._

_I expected her to look at me differently once she knew, to see me as a pitiful, broken thing. But when all the crying was done and I looked into her eyes, I saw only love._

_***_

It should've been a sad memory, and Patsy wasn't entirely sure why she'd thought about it in the bath, but it didn't feel sad. Telling Delia her darkest secrets and finding that Delia still wanted her was actually one of the best moments of her life. It had made her feel worthy. She didn't know if it was that, or that the hot water had relieved her tired muscles, but she felt a lot better as she pulled on her favourite striped pyjamas and went off in search of Horlicks. She wasn't expecting to see anyone on her late-night quest, but noticed Trixie sat by the phone; she must be first on call. The blonde didn't look entirely there, like her mind was elsewhere. Patsy wondered if she'd appreciate some company. 

"Penny for your thoughts?" The redhead asked, offering out a cigarette.

"Shouldn't you be tucked up in bed? Sleep does wonders for one's complexion you know, at least one of us should reap its benefits."

Typical Trixie, sidestepping the question. 

“I've had a ghastly day and I'm not sure I could possibly sleep yet.” Patsy shrugged, pulling up a chair. Sometimes honesty was the best answer. 

“I see.” Trixie smiled playfully “Well I suppose I should make the best of the time I have, since I shan’t get a moment with you once Delia arrives.” 

Patsy opened her mouth to speak and closed it again, looking very much like a goldfish. A small blush crept up her cheeks as she smiled and shook her head slightly. 

“I'm only teasing, we’ve all missed her. I understand.” Trixie took another drag of her cigarette. 

If only you could, Patsy thought, saying nothing. 

“Anyway, I’ll forgive you the total abandonment if you let me borrow that divine silk scarf your father sent you last Christmas!” 

They sat comfortably with each other until the phone rang an hour later, dragging Trixie out into the night. It was the sort of idle chatter among friends where they talked a lot but said very little. Neither shared the troubles weighing on their minds, and both were too caught up in their own goings on to see the loneliness in the other’s eyes. 

By the time Patsy found herself in bed it was well past midnight. Having the room to herself, she took the opportunity to take Delia's photograph from her treasured memory box and simply stare at it. She was always taken by how beautiful Delia was. She could hardly wait to run her fingers through her hair and breathe in the unmistakable smell of her perfume. It always reminded her of their first kiss. She wanted to hold Delia in her arms and pepper her face with soft kisses. She wanted to look into her eyes and tell her that she loved her. She wanted to make her laugh and marvel at the music of the sound. Most of all though, she just wanted to be close to her. After pressing her lips to the picture and wishing for the hundredth time that it was the real thing, Patsy put the photograph back in the box and hid it back under her bed. 

Delia had to come back, she just had to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading to the end of this chapter! I promise some actual plot in the next one!  
> As always, I massively appreciate feedback and people to bounce ideas off of  
> thank you again x


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delia finally returns to Poplar, and a certain midwife couldn't be happier.

Patsy felt nauseous with nervous, giddy energy. Nothing in the whole wide world, and certainly not in Poplar, could dampen her spirits today. She felt invincible, impervious to fatigue and hunger as she bounced from call to call with a spring in her step. Those patients expecting to encounter the stern version of the 'posh ginger nurse' that day were left perplexed by the sudden change in demeanour, and if people questioned why she was suddenly so jolly, for once she simply didn't care. 

If her bicycle could fly, she wouldn't have gotten back to Nonnatus House any sooner after returning from the delivery of little baby Marina Su. She glided over the cobbles, wished a merry greeting to Fred and bounded through the front door with a spring in her step quite contrary to a young woman that had been on her feet all day. She couldn't stop the little outburst of glee as she spotted Delia's things piled up in the hall either, Patsy took the stairs at a run. 

There she was. In Nonnatus House. Delia. _Her_ Delia.

"Hello!" Patsy beamed, forgetting herself for a moment, seeing her there in the flesh. She'd dreamed about this moment for months. She caught herself with a bite of her lip just in time to stop all of the love she held for the beautiful Welshwoman from pouring out of her. "Um, I saw the bags" she tried to regain some composure.

For once, it was the lovely Delia that held it together, "I'm afraid there's quite a lot to tidy away." 

Sister Mary Cynthia stood just behind, out of focus but still intruding on the moment. 

Alone, but not really. 

Together, but not quite.

Ghosts, but not dead. 

"Well, luckily that's my forte!" Patsy grinned and took the heavy box of books. Sister Mary Cynthia slipped out of the room, largely unnoticed. 

"It is indeed!" The smaller woman agreed, "but you really ought to change out of your uniform first, Pats." 

"I'll be right back" The redhead's smile was a small one this time, her face plainly showing how unappealing the prospect of leaving the room was.

Once back in her own Delia-lacking room, Patsy let herself breathe for what felt like the first time all day, no _year_. Between worrying that Delia wouldn't return and her excitement that she was finally here, Patsy hadn't felt truly calm in such a long time, but now tranquillity washed over her in waves. All of the tension she had been carrying seemed to dissipate as she unbuttoned her uniform. She changed, and as she reached into her drawer for a chequered shirt, her fingers brushed against a familiar satin ribbon, holding together a bundle of paper hidden in the clothes. She pulled it out of the drawer and tucked it under her arm. It was time. 

She didn't immediately see her girlfriend sitting on the floor when she re-entered the small room and the ensuing panic rose in her chest like bile. It was irrational, but Patsy wasn't sure she would ever shake the worry whenever Delia was out of sight. Her present concern was unfounded, Delia was simply sat on the floor in front of the bookcase, engrossed in her task of arranging her literary collection. And she'd called Mrs Busby over-protective. 

Patsy smiled at the back of Delia's head and set about her own task of filling the wardrobe, taking the opportunity to inhale Delia's scent on the clothes as she did. 

"You know, I thought I'd imagined you to start with. I couldn't always trust my memories; and how could you possibly be real? You were some sort of angel, and far too good to be true." Delia whispered after a short while, breaking the comfortable silence they'd inhabited as they worked. 

Patsy stopped folding the sweater she was holding, Delia's words hanging between them. There was still so much left unsaid from the last months. 

"Mam never liked to talk about my life in London, I knew she didn't really want me to remember it. So, I started to think that I'd imagined you. There was nothing of you in my things, none of the notes I thought I remembered you leaving me, no photographs, no ring. How could someone I remembered loving so much, leave no trace? I'd just about accepted that you were a fragment of my imagination, a dream of something that could never be. Then I found this book, and the message inside. You dark horse." 

Delia was holding a book to her chest, even with the title hidden by an ill-fitting dustjacket, Patsy knew that it was ' _The Price of Salt'._ She had left it for Delia after the accident, with the notion that if the injured woman ever regained some of her memories and had any doubts about the true nature of their relationship, that particular book would quash those doubts. There could be absolutely no mistaking the meaning held in its pages. Delia had wanted to read it for months before the accident, but Patsy had never been brave enough to seek out a copy. The redhead had deemed it too much of a risk, much to the brunette's dismay. 

*

_"Deels, I just don't see why it's so important" I said, exhausted. Why did Delia insist on risking our secret? It was only a book, and books about women like us never ended happily. Did she not remember 'The Well of Loneliness'?_

_'Give us also the right to our existence', indeed._

" _I want to read a book and see myself in the pages, Pats. I want to read about girls like us falling in love and getting a happily ever after." Delia's forlorn face was almost enough to crack my resolve, almost, but not quite._

_Because it wouldn't end happily, would it? No self-respecting publishing house would ever print that sort of book. That sort of a book had to end in tragedy, remind the reader that we were wrong, needed to be punished, unhappy, ruined. Why was Delia so desperate to read a book like that? Couldn't what we had just be enough?_

_"I'm sorry Deels, but if you want a happy ending, we'll have to make our own."_

_And that was that._

_*_

Then suddenly things were different, Delia lay in a hospital bed, unaware of who she was or who she loved, and Patsy would do anything to get her back. Including travelling right across London to procure a copy of a lesbian book for the girlfriend that no longer remembered her. She knew it was selfish. Delia may never recover her memories, Delia may never be the same, Delia may not even have _those_ feelings towards women anymore. Was it unfair of Patsy to push the knowledge onto her? Perhaps this new Delia would be perfectly happy to settle down with a nice Welshman of her mother's choosing? 

No. 

Delia was still Delia, even without her memories. Being attracted to women was as much a fundamental part of Delia Busby as having blue eyes and brown hair, amnesia couldn't change that. 

Patsy had known it was a huge risk, one that she wouldn't dream of taking under normal circumstances, what if Mrs Busby found it? She just had to pray that it would go unnoticed in the boxes of Delia's possessions being sent back to Tenby. In any case, Patsy had reasoned, it was much less explicit than their letters. She only hoped that the book, and the short noted that it contained, would one day be enough to guide Delia back to her. 

And seeing it again now, she knew that it had. Her patience had come to fruition. 

"You found it." Patsy's mouth was suddenly dry. 

Delia opened the front page to show her the words written there, even though they both knew exactly what they said.

"With love and _Patience_ , nothing is impossible." Delia smiled and rolled her eyes, "not exactly your finest work, I didn't think you were so vain, Pats."

Patsy's mouth widened in indignation, "I thought it was quite fitting under the circumstances! Since I couldn't very well write what I really wanted to say."

The playful atmosphere was dragged down with the weight of Patsy's words, and that of so many more left unspoken. That was them though, wasn't it? For every word uttered, a thousand more hung in the air between them. 

_I'm the same._ _Keep warm._

"Those words were everything to me, vain or not." The brunette smiled, her blue eyes meeting those of her love, "and the story had a happy ending."

Patsy felt an unsurmountable rush of love for the woman before her, there was guilt mixed in there too, but she'd get to that in time. There was a reason that there were no photographs or letters from Patsy in Delia's things, and for once it wasn't Mrs Busby's doing. It was time for Patsy to come clean. 

-

When she'd been given the Earth-shattering news that Delia was being taken back to Wales, Patsy had coped with her despair by burying her grief and retreating into the relative safety of her Nurse Mount persona. There were things that needed taking care of, and Nurse Mount was a problem solver first and foremost. The most pressing matter was retrieving the few items in Delia's possession that could prove problematic should her parents find them before Delia's memory returned, if it ever did.

Sneaking into the nurse's home had been easy, but nothing could've prepared the redhead for being back in Delia's bedroom, compartmentalised emotions or no. Patsy had brushed away the tears that sprang up in retaliation to seeing Delia's things already packed and piled up in the corner in preparation for their move. It was just so cruel. Those boxes travelled across the Welsh border with their owner instead of the few streets across the East End. _Be strong Pats_. She'd lifted Delia's pillow to her face, breathing in the unmistakable smell of shampoo and perfume. 

Oh Delia.

Once she'd forced herself to start looking, it didn't take Patsy long to find the items she sought and to slip the book into the bottom of a box in their place.

She'd kept their secret safe for both of them. 

-

"I'm sorry Deels, but when I found out they were taking you away I went to the nurse's home and took some of your things for safe keeping. The things you wouldn't have wanted your mother to find." Patsy's face searched Delia's for any trace of her reaction, suddenly unsure if she'd made the right decision all those months ago, but her expression was unreadable. 

"So, you replaced them with a book about two women falling in love and running away together? Oh Pats!" 

The brunette's tone was playful, but Patsy's face was still defensive, eyebrows raised in a way that almost dared the younger woman to contradict her actions.

Delia reached out and squeezed her hand.

"Thank you, sweetheart. Now can I have them back?" 

"Once we've sorted out this mess," The midwife bargained and Delia rolled her eyes once again, knowing better than to argue. 

Eventually, all that remained to be done were the finishing touches.

"You must be exhausted now," Delia observed as she arranged her family photographs.

"I must be, but I don't feel it." Patsy grinned to herself, fiddling with the flowers she'd seemingly produced out of thin air. How could she possibly be tired today? "There." 

Content with their arrangement she turned to her girlfriend and flopped down onto the bed beside her, maybe she was more tired than she realised.

"I have waited such a long time to sit beside you, looking at a bunch of flowers in a vase." 

Simple words, so much meaning. 

"Under the same roof at last. Just you and me." Delia paused, her playful smile back, "and Trixie..."

"And Barbara, and Nurse Crane," they laughed, reeling off the names together.

"And quite a few nuns!" Delia giggled.

But it didn't matter if half of Poplar lived with them, they were back together. At long last. 

When their giggles subsided, Patsy reached behind her for the precious package tied with yellow ribbon, it was time to return the memories to their owner. It had initially shocked the English woman to discover just how many keep sakes Delia had kept of their time together, but then it ripped her heart open anew to realise how very _Delia_ it was to have done so. Their whole relationship was bundled into that parcel of precious photographs, cinema stubs, dance tickets and letters. So many letters. 

Delia's dimpled smile made Patsy's heart positively melt as she looked through the cherished mementos like a proud child showing off her schoolwork. The brunette was a bundle of excitement as she bombarded Patsy with numerous talks of "Remember when...", "this is from the time we..." and "I kept this one because..."

Delia remembered the significance of every single item, even the ones that Patsy herself couldn't quite place. Not for the first time, the redhead was flooded with pride for her girlfriend and the horrific injuries she'd overcome. Delia was returned to her, whole and complete. It was nothing short of miraculous. 

But something _was_ missing, something very important. Delia noted its absence as soon as she was done reminiscing over the other beloved tokens. 

"Pats? Where's the ring?"

*

_"You don't really want to get married, do you?" My voice was as small as I felt in that moment, petrified of Delia's answer._

_"Yes. More than anything." And my heart stopped. "To you, you fool! And I can't, so that's that." Delia's beautiful eyes were so dark with sadness and hatred that the intensity stunned me. It took me a moment too long to realise that the darkness was not directed at me, but at the world at large._

_The world that kept us apart. The word that would never accept us. The world that forced us to hide._

_I couldn't stop her as she stormed off, my feet routed to the spot. I was paralysed with terror as I listened to her footsteps slowly fading away._

_I wasn't surprised, not really. I'd always known that I could never truly be enough for Delia. It wasn't fair that I was asking her to live her life in a cage when she deserved to soar free as a bird. She was right too, I was better at facades than she was, I'd had to be - and I would forever be grateful that it was a skill that she'd never needed to develop as I had._

_As I finally walked back to the convent, I was equal parts bitter and angry. I was angry at the world for treating us this way. Angry at the god I no longer believed in for making us this way. Angry that things would never change. Angry that it would never get any easier. Angry even with Delia for being angry for the very same reasons that I was._

_I had to do **something** , or I might lose her. _

_"We aren't dead, and we won't live as we were." I told her at the lantern festival a few days later, and I meant it. She'd looked so fetching in her St John's uniform that I wanted to kiss her, but I didn't. As usual I pushed the feeling aside and instead offered her a half smile and quick grasp of her hand. It was a poor man's substitute and we both knew it, but accepted it, nevertheless._

_It was then that the idea blossomed my mind like a flower._

_Delia wanted to get married and yes, she was right that we couldn't. But who was to stop us from saying the words? Making our own promises? Neither of us held much stock in religion anyway, we didn't need to stand up in the House of God to make oaths to each other._

_To start, I would need a ring. My first thought was of my Mother's, the beautiful ruby shining so brightly on her delicate hand as it danced over the keys of a piano. It was lost now, of course. No, not lost. Taken. Seized. Stolen. I shook my head; I did not want to go down that particular rabbit hole today. Besides, my mother's ring wouldn't have been right, it would've been a reminder of the love she shared with my father. The man that sent me away. Delia deserved something that was just for her, without a painful history. Something new._

_I hadn't the faintest idea where to begin. I'd never envisioned ever needing to buy an engagement ring,_ _never dreamed that I would want to give one to the woman I loved. Never even dared to dream that there would ever be a 'woman I loved'._

_But inexplicably there was, and if there was ever a time for a grand romantic gesture, it was now._

_The loud ringing of the shop bell actually made me flinch as I entered a jeweller's in the West End. The old man behind the counter immediately eyed me with curiosity. In hindsight a dress might've been more appropriate than blouse and slacks._

_"Good morning miss, how may I help you today?" The little old man said with a smile._

_"Good morning, I am looking to purchase a ring."_

_"For yourself miss?" His eyebrow raised, as I anticipated._

_Breathe Pats, you can do this._

_"No." I said the word with the sort of finality that left no room for further questioning._

_I could've lied and maybe I should've, yet I didn't. For once, I used my upbringing to my advantage, drawing myself to full height and letting my Queen's English accent say more than my actual words. My plan of action was simple; command the room and they won't ask questions. It was like Father always said about business; confidence is key._

_"I see." His voice held only the faintest a hint of curiosity, "the items in this display case may interest you then, miss."_

_And just like that, my labour came to fruition. I made my selection, paid the odd little man and made my way back across London with the purchase burning a small hole in my pocket._

_Now Patsy, that wasn't so hard was it?_

_No, but finding the right way to give it to Delia would be._

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading to the end of this chapter! I contemplated splitting it but wasn't sure where would be an appropriate point to end, so I hope it wasn't too much  
> I'm also taking a bit of creative liberty with whether or not Patsy would be able to find The Price of Salt in the UK in 1960, but it was apparently published here in the late 50s, so in my head it could work.  
> I still feel very rusty with writing and it's hard to spot your own mistakes so please feel free to point them out! Any feedback is always appreciated (and this might sound needy) but if anyone would like to be my beta that would be amazing, I know that I'm terrible for slipping in and out of tenses. Or if anyone just wants to fangirl with me over our lovely girls that would be great too!  
> I hope people are still enjoying this little story :)  
> Thanks lovely people! x


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delia is given, and reunited with, her ring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovely people that may still be reading this, sorry for the long wait for this chapter, I just couldn't seem to get it down on paper how I felt like it played in my head. I know that Patsy giving Delia the ring we see her wearing around her neck has been done (wonderfully I might add) a million times, but I tried to do it a little bit differently, and I hope you like it!  
> Also this chapter is pretty much pure fluff, sorry not sorry x

_Delia was late._

_I stood outside the Nurse's home waiting for her, feigning nonchalance, with my hands stuffed into my coat pockets and one firmly clasped around the little ring box hidden there. I could see my breath clouding the air in front of me like smoke and by goodness, I wanted a cigarette. Reluctantly, I resisted the temptation. Matron didn’t permit smoking on the steps of the Nurse’s home and whilst I was no-longer one of her charges, I still did not wish to incur her wrath._

_Usually, I would count Delia's appalling timekeeping among one of her more endearing traits, but tonight was an exception. My nervous energy was threatening to bubble over into frustration and I couldn't afford a poor temper. Her tardiness, whilst not unexpected was irritating, especially when we had such little time together._

_I had been waiting in anticipation of this night for over a week. It had been a week of doubts and worry, of talking myself out of and then promptly back into what I was about to do. Too much time was my enemy and if Delia gave me much more of it, I would surely lose the courage I had built up for this evening. Even now as I stood waiting, I wasn't confident of how the night would progress. The ring felt heavy in my coat pocket with the weight of the question I planned to ask, if Delia ever materialised._

_It’s just a ring, Patsy._

_I was just debating venturing inside when she appeared, wrapped up in her coat and grinning at me.  
  
"Hello Pats!" She greeted me brightly, like she hadn't kept me waiting in the dark. "Am I awfully late?" She added, smiling apologetically and softening my undoubtedly sour expression._

_"Yes, but we might just make it if we skip to it" I retorted with a half-smile as she fell into step beside me and we set off in the direction of the pictures. "You look rather lovely tonight, Deels" I whispered as we walked._

_Delia had been talking about this film for weeks and whilst I had zero interest in seeing it, I saw it as my opportunity. She’d been thrilled when I’d suggested we go to the cinema on our rare mutual night off, mistaking my enthusiasm to see her for genuine interest in the film._

_We arrived with mere minutes to spare and although the small theatre was almost empty, we took our usual seats towards the back far away from everyone else. Whatever film Delia had chosen obviously wasn't a popular choice, but as she laced her fingers through mine under the cover of darkness, it struck me that she'd probably orchestrated it this way.  
  
The film itself was frightfully dull, not that I gave it much of my attention. I could hardly hear a word over the deafening thunder of my blood pounding in my ears. More than once I lost the thread of the story to my own racing thoughts.  
_

_"Deels?" I whispered an hour in._

_"Shhhhhh!" Her eyes never left the screen, so she missed me rolling mine. Perhaps she hadn't chosen this awful film based on the anticipated privacy after all._

_"Delia!" I whispered again, with more urgency this time. I almost winced at the neediness seeping into my voice._

_"What is it Pats?" She finally tore herself away from the screen to look at me._

_Those eyes._

_All the words I had carefully prepared stuck in my throat._

_"I-um- would you care for a sherbet lemon?"_

_Coward._

_"Yes, please" Delia's face held a puzzled expression for a second, before her eyes were captivated once again by story playing out on the screen._

_Patience Mount, you timid mouse!_

_I tried not to stare too intently at her as she absentmindedly reached into the paper bag that I handed to her with a slightly shaking hand. Even in the darkness, I could pinpoint the millisecond that her fingertips brushed the cool metal that I'd slipped into it just a few seconds before. Her face clouded with confusion, t_ _hen she pulled out the ring and confusion turned to shock._

 _Suffice to say, Delia was no longer interested in the film._

_"Pats? Is this what I think this is?!?" She breathed._

_I could only nod, sheepishly._

_"Then ask me."_

_Ask her?_

_Oh._

_I understood, she needed to hear the words. The darkness gave me the courage to give voice to the thoughts that had been swirling around my head and heart for such a long time._

_No veiled words, no sentences laced with hidden meanings never to be spoken aloud, we always said so much in the unsaid, now was a time for plain honesty._

_“I can’t give you everything you want. Marriage, children… heavens, I can’t even hold your hand in public. But I can give you my love and I want you to have this ring Delia. I want you to wear it over your heart and know that however we appear to the world, you are mine and I am yours. So, what do you say?”_

_The grin that blossomed across her face was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen._

*** 

"Pats, where's the ring?" Delia asked expectantly, her eyes filled with hope. 

Patsy recognised the look, though hope had always felt such a cruel emotion to her. She and hope had a such a complicated relationship, to put it politely. 

_“We’re having to settle for hope”_ Were Mrs Busby’s words once as her daughter lay in a hospital bed and Patsy looked on, helpless. On that occasion, their combined hope was sufficient to bring Delia back to them, but Patsy knew intimately that often hope wasn’t enough, and could never be relied upon alone. 

In fact, Patsy spent so much of her time actively avoiding hope, so as never to be disappointed, that her outlook on most aspects of her life was rather bleak. It spared her the heartache later. But now in Delia’s new room at Nonnatus, Patsy began to let hope blossom in her once again. 

That’s what the ring represented after all; their hope for a future forged together. For so long in Delia’s absence, Patsy couldn’t even look at it. She hid it in her memory box, which was really just a shoebox full of pain, and a physical manifestation of her sorrow. Everyone contained within it was either dead or lost to her. After Christmas, and her plea for Delia to return, she removed the ring and began to carry it with her like a talisman. She never wore it though, only Delia had that right. 

Wordlessly, she pulled the gold chain from the pocket of her slacks and manoeuvred herself to fasten it around Delia's neck. Her fingers fizzled as they brushed the silky-smooth skin she found there, and a blush crept up her cheeks. 

“There.” She smiled her fish-hook smile, “back where it belongs.” 

A small sigh escaped Delia's lips at the contact, and she brought her hand up to her chest to feel the engagement ring dangling from the chain. 

"I thought I'd lost it in the hospital, or worse, that they’d given it to mam." 

"You left it at the flat with your clothes. Naturally, you couldn’t wear it at The London. You said that it belonged in _our home_ " Patsy shook her head, "I almost left it,” she added quietly. 

"But you didn't." 

"I couldn't. I had to hope that one day you'd want it back." 

Delia’s lips found Patsy's then. There could be no more waiting. The way they melted into each other was like two perfect puzzle pieces coming together. The holes in their hearts that had grown through separation began to knit back together. They began to heal. 

Neither woman ever wanted the kiss to end. 

And much later, as they lay facing each other on the small single bed, Delia asked the redhead, “do you suppose we’ll go to hell?” with a smile on her lips. 

Patsy thought of the last time that Delia had asked her that very question, in the chapel as they ate their supper. It was a different question then, but it wasn’t, this was always what she alluded to. It felt like a lifetime ago. 

“I’ve been to hell Deels, and I’ve no intention of ever returning.” The taller woman responded, bereft of her usual levity. 

The irony of their living in a convent was not lost on her, it was simply that of all the things that Patsy feared, God’s judgement was not among them. She said grace at mealtimes as she was supposed to and attended church when she was expected to, but she simply didn’t share the faith held by her fellow Nonnatuns. 

It wasn’t the wrath of God that Patsy feared, it was the wrath of her fellow man. 

Creeping back into her own room in the small hours, Patsy marvelled at how wonderful the evening had been and she counted her lucky stars at how easy it would be for them. 

It was almost too easy, she thought sadly, and reminded herself not get complacent. They would have to be extra vigilant now that they were surrounded by their closest -but as yet unsuspecting- friends. More than ever, they couldn’t afford to let their guard down and invoke suspicion, Patsy could only imagine Sister Julienne’s reaction to their inviting wickedness into the convent. 

Patsy sighed as she climbed into her cold, empty bed. Nothing was ever simple, but for tonight, she was content.   
  
***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for reading, comments (good or bad) are utterly adored and give me the motivation to keep going. Many many moons ago, in my fic writing hay day I was firmly a oneshot girl, but Patsy and Delia have a special place in my heart and I don't think I'll be letting them go any time soon!
> 
> Stay safe Pupcakers! x

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I only recently discovered Call the Midwife and I am OBSESSED. So in love with Pupcake that I just couldn't help but get the old writing cap back on.  
> Words of encouragement/constructive criticism much appreciated - I hope to continue this story!  
> Thank you again x


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